Own Nothing

Seven:

He knew that she knew, he could see it in her eyes, as she walked around the office. She had a glint in her eye, she had it when she first saw him. The news of the Bay Butcher killer had reached all the way to England, she wasn't here to work on the case, but to observe and take notes. But she knew, she had to...she had to know.

He didn't know how she figured it out, or if she was a threat, it seemed like she didn't plan on telling anyone, but he couldn't know for sure. He was prepare for anything, especially after his brother, but he wasn't prepared for her.

Or her breaking into his apartment.

He had opened the door to see her going through his slides, he was shocked, angry and slightly aroused. He didn't understand the last part, but he wanted to know why she was there. "How did you get in?" He asked, frozen. She had no pull here in florida, she would have one hell of a time proving his was the serial killer, if he decided to let her live.

"The door."

"What if someone was home?" He asked.

"There wasn't, your sister is still hard at work and you were at your fake meetings." She replied, closing the box and placing it back in it's spot, she closed the AC unit that hid it and turned to face him. "I wanted to talk."

"Black mailing me isn't going to help you." He stated quickly, the idea of black mailing a serial killer was a dumb idea, but he didn't want her to try it. He was beginning to like her after a few weeks working with her.

"Why would I want to black mail you?" She blinked before walking towards the couch. She picked up a thick leather bound album, that wasn't his, he assumed that she brought it. "I wanted to show you this." She handed it to him, backing away.

He glanced at her, then the book, then back at her. "What is it?"

"A Peace offering." She shrugged. "May I get some water? I don't know how you stand this heat, I'm dying in it."

How ironic. He thought, nodding towards the kitchen as he sat down at his desk and open the book. It was filled with Obituaries, he found out, from cover to cover. It dated five years back, this was filled with memories of dead people, like his little box. He looked up at Hermione Granger to see her leaning against the counter, a glass of ice water in her hand, sipping it slowly.

"It takes one to know one." She stated, setting the glass on the counter.

"What?" He asked, confused.

"A serial killer. Dexter it takes one to know one." She stated again. "All those people in that album I have taken their lives because they did not deserve to live. At first it was just the extreme criminals, it was my job to track them down and bring them back dead or alive, but it just got to me. These..." She stopped to take a breath, he could see goose bumps, she was getting excited just talking about it. "These scum-bags...they killed innocent people, people who should still be alive, they didn't it in the name of ethnic cleansing."

"Why'd you do it?" He asked.

"Because bringing them back alive, to face justice is just giving them a chance to commit the crime again. I only took the lives of those who cannot handle the responsibility of living life without hurting another."

He was in awe of her, she had no guilt, or remorse for ending these criminals lives. She was just like him. "Why tell me this?"

"I know you are the Bay Butcher," She sighed. "I just want to let you know that you're not alone." She stepped closer to him, standing in front of his sitting form, smiling down at him.

"How did you know?" He asked. "How did you really know?"

"You have the same glint in your eye, that I see when I look in the mirror, the same out look. You're saving lives by taking away the ones that hurt them. I do to."

"What now?" He asked, staring up at her.

"I have more albums in my apartment, I couldn't bare to leave them in England, so I brought them. I've been doing this for over a decade."

He might be in love.